


Don't look

by this_wayward_life



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Alternate Universe - Stripper/Exotic Dancer, Alternate Universe - Suicide Squad (2016) Fusion, Anal Sex, Angry Sex, Based on Suicide squad, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes & Natasha Romanov Friendship, Dubious Consent, Evil Alexander Pierce, Explicit Sexual Content, Forced Prostitution, Infidelity, M/M, Making Love, Minor Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, Minor Loki/Steve Rogers, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Sexual Abuse, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Protective Natasha Romanov, Rough Oral Sex, Rough Sex, Russian Bucky Barnes, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-24
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:40:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22875670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/this_wayward_life/pseuds/this_wayward_life
Summary: Steve Rogers, war hero turned vigilante, thought that he'd be stuck in prison for the rest of his life, until Director of SHIELD Nicholas J. Fury and his second-in-command Agent Maria Hill recruit him for a secret task force called the Avengers Initiative. While settling in, Steve finds himself drawn to his teammate, the mysterious Winter Soldier, a man who worked side-by-side with a Black Widow and turned himself in for seemingly no reason.But when SHIELD finds evidence of a sex trafficking ring run by Hydra operating out of a gentleman's bar in Boston, Massachusetts, members of the task force are sent undercover to destroy it from the inside out. And Steve realises there's much more to the Winter Soldier than he thought.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 17
Kudos: 65





	1. Chapter 1

Special Agent Maria Hill knew what she was getting into when she first started working for Nicholas J. Fury. Even back then, fresh out of the academy at twenty-three and with a fire burning bright in her chest, she knew. Nick Fury was a madman - not in a bad way, but in a way that showed just how affected he was by his career choices. He was paranoid, and coldly calculated, sometimes to the point when it made Maria feel chills run down her spine. And this latest assignment was honestly crazy, even for Nick's standards. In the seven years she'd worked as his right hand, she had never seen anything like this.

"Are you sure this is the best idea?" Maria asked for the third time, studying the file in front of her. Nick raised his eyebrow, his one visible eye glittering. 

"Believe me, agent, I know what I'm doing," he said coolly. Maria knew not to take that tone personally - that was how Nick spoke to everyone. "And with the Avengers Initiative, we would be able to get some very dangerous people off the streets and working for us."

"And how do you suppose we get them to agree to this?" Maria asked.

"Everyone who we'll be recruiting has been apprehended. It's either this or spending the rest of their lives in high-security prisons."

Maria pinched the bridge of her nose. "These people are dangerous, Nick. They've killed innocents."

"We all have blood on our hands, Agent Hill." And Nick looked at her almost sadly. "You of all people should know that."

Maria pushed the file away from her. "Fine. Walk me through it."

Nick pushed his chair back and stood up, the large screen behind him flickering to life. The images displayed were of a meek, brown-haired man in glasses, and a large, green thing three times the size of a regular human, wearing nothing but torn pants and mouth open in some form of howl. Maria involuntarily shuddered.

"Doctor Bruce Banner," Nick said, gesturing at the man. "Forty-three years old with seven PhDs, up until recently was working in Mumbai, giving free vaccines to the children and working as a general physician." Nick pointed at the green giant. "The Hulk is Doctor Banner's alter ego. Due to a freak accident involving gamma radiation and an attempt at a super-human serum, the good doctor mutated into a half-man, half-beast. The Hulk appears when Banner feels angry, threatened, or scared. It's like a Jekyll and Hyde situation, but much more catastrophic."

Nick flicked his hand at the screen, and it changed to an image of a city in shambles. "A few years ago, the Hulk destroyed half of Chicago, killing eighty-three people and injuring thousands. Banner has been on the run ever since, until we picked him up in Mumbai after a tip-off from an anonymous source."

Maria leaned forward onto her elbows. "Has the doctor experienced another episode in the years since Chicago?"

"If he has, we don't know about it." Nick raised an eyebrow. "It's not about the number of episodes, Director Hill. It's about the threat. Bruce Banner cannot be allowed near the general populous. If he's set off, the consequences could be worse than 9/11."

Maria sighed, and Nick looked satisfied, turning back to the screen. It flickered to a picture of a beautiful woman who looked to be in her mid-twenties, with curly red hair cut into a bob and startling green eyes. "Natalia Alianovna Romanova. Aliases include Natasha Romanoff, Natalie Rushman, and Black Widow. She, along with nine other girls, was picked from a nursery in Moscow when they were infants, and trained to become Widows. When they came of age, their handlers set them loose on the world, and they were almost all killed by the assassins their handlers sent after them. Natalia was the only one to survive."

Nick flicked to the next slide, to a picture of a man whose beauty matched Natalia's. He was tall and lean, body rippling with sinewy muscles, with shoulder-length brown hair and grey eyes. The bottom half of his face was obscured by a mask. "This is the Widow's partner, for lack of a better word. The Winter Soldier was the assassin sent after Natalia. Instead of killing her, they joined forces. According to the intel given by our moles in the Russian special ops, the Soldier was kept against his will and brainwashed. Somehow, Natalia was able to snap him out of it. The two of them turned themselves in a couple of weeks ago."

"Is their relationship sexual in nature?" Maria asked curiously, tapping a pen against the table.

"Definitely not," Nick snorted. "The Soldier seems to regard Natalia as a sister, or perhaps a daughter, and she feels the same way about him."

"And what is his name?"

"We don't know," Nick admitted. "Natalia will not tell us, and we're not entirely sure if he knows his own name."

Maria felt her gut clench, suddenly overwhelmed with sympathy towards the Soldier. To have your entire identity stripped away from you so quickly, to not even know your own name... it would be heartbreaking. 

The screen changed to an image of an attractive dark-skinned man with a smirk on his face. "Sam Wilson, better known as the Falcon. He was pararescue in a specialised force in Afghanistan, and after his partner died, he went off the rails. Started doing unauthorized military missions that bordered on terrorism."

"Isn't that what terrorism is, though?" Maria cut in. "Military missions that aren't government-approved?"

Nick didn't answer, instead flicking to the next slide. Three people were shown - two men and a woman. One of the men was significantly older than the other two, who couldn't have been more than teenagers. "Hawkeye, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch. Also known as Clint Barton, Pietro and Wanda Maximoff. Barton grew up in a circus but ran away when on tour in Sokovia when he was sixteen. When there, he found the twins in a back alley, having been abandoned. They were barely five years old, so he took them with him. They've been together ever since."

"And their abilities?"

"Barton is not artificially enhanced but is a highly-skilled fighter and archer. Rumours say that he's never missed a shot. Pietro has increased metabolism and improved homeostasis, making him incredibly fast and hard to tire. Wanda deals with mental manipulation and telekinesis - she's so powerful that we've had to lock her up in a very specialised cell just to keep her from destroying the whole facility." 

Maria tapped the file in front of her. "Tell me about the Captain."

Nick obliged, and a picture of a large, blonde man with scruffy facial hair and a haunted look in his eyes took up the screen. "Captain Steve Rogers was known as Captain America for his outstanding work in Afghanistan for the Allied Forces. One doctor Erskine created a serum that would give its owner superhuman abilities, and Rogers was the sole beneficiary. Erskine was killed mere minutes after the procedure took place. Rogers shipped out to Afghanistan and was the leader of a special operatives group nicknamed 'The Howling Commandoes', who were active for two years. But something went wrong on one mission, all the Howling Commandoes were killed, and Rogers disappeared."

Fury paused. "Everyone thought he was dead until a few months later when he blew up a construction factory in Oregon. Since then, he's committed several acts of terrorism, not just in the United States, but all around the world. When we caught him, he claimed that the bases were HYDRA, an underground Nazi death cult that has been active since the second world war."

"Is there any proof of his claims?" Maria asked sceptically.

"Surprisingly, yes," Nicky admitted. "But that does not excuse terrorism, no matter the cause. Rogers has always strived to do the noble thing, and I have high hopes that he will join our cause."

"And that's your plan - put these enhanced individuals in a room together and pray that they don't kill each other or plot to kill everyone in this facility?" Maria asked. 

"Yes," Nick replied. 

One of the things that Maria respected about Nick was his complete and utter refusal to lie. He kept things from people, no doubt - but he was so good at his job that he never had to lie. And despite the fact that Maria knew that he could wrap her around his little finger and break her like a weak piece of string, she trusted him. She had always trusted him. And maybe that was going to be her downfall.

\-----

The punching bag was getting destroyed. Steve's knuckles were bright red and bleeding, splotches of white bone showing through the mess of torn skin and blood, but he still didn't stop. The punching bag had holes in it, sand leaking out slowly. The metal chain holding it to the ceiling was barely holding on. After one particularly furious punch, the chain snapped and the bag flew across the cell. 

Steve took in a couple of deep breaths, trying to steady his breathing before he calmly looked down at his knuckles. He could see cracks in the exposed bone. The leather of the punching bag was soaked with blood.

Steve moved over to the small cot in the corner and ripped off a few pieces of bedding, wrapping them around his destroyed knuckles. They'd probably be healed in a day or so, anyway.

Steve swiped a hand across his face, sinking down onto the cot. It was pointless, his imprisonment at this goddamned facility. Constant solitary confinement, seeing only the same bare walls of his cell every day and knowing that was all he was going to be seeing for the rest of his life. He'd try to kill himself if he didn't know his body wouldn't let him.

The cell door swung open, and Steve was on his feet in an instant. Not once had the door opened, not since he'd been flung into the cell over a month before. A man stepped into the room; tall, dark skin, an eyepatch. A couple of decades older than Steve. A slim woman with brown hair pulled into a tight bun stepped in after him. She couldn't have been older than thirty.

"Director Fury." Steve tilted his head at the man. "You here to kill me?"

"And what would bring you to such a conclusion, Captain Rogers?" Fury drawled.

"Because it's the only one that makes sense," Steve replied absentmindedly. "I have never been taken out of this cell. I doubt you're starting up an inmate bonding exercise, and you're definitely not setting me free. So are you gonna put a bullet in my skull, or do you not think that'll work?"

"We have no intention of killing you, Captain Rogers," the woman said coolly. "We are here to recruit you."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Recruit me for what?"

"A secret task force," Fury replied. 

"So you want me to work for the government?" Steve asked incredulously. "You can't be serious."

"You wouldn't be working for the government, Captain," the woman said. Her tone was strictly business. Steve found himself reluctantly liking her. "You'd be working for SHIELD."

"Not much of a difference there, ma'am," Steve said, and crossed his arms over his chest. "And why would you want someone like me on this task force?"

"Actually, you fit the criteria perfectly," the woman said. "Very powerful enemy of the state who wants either revenge or redemption. We can give you either of those things."

"And which one do you think I want?" Steve asked coldly.

The woman's eyes gleamed. "Both."


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve meets the Winter Soldier.

Steve's taskforce is supposedly not meant to exist. Despite that, they have their own building. Reinforced vibranium lines the walls, making an escape impossible, but other than that it looks like any other training compound slash living space would look. The first floor is a common room, with a large kitchen, a bar, and a lounge room. The basement is a gym, stocked with state of the art equipment, all brandishing the logo of _Stark Industries._ Each team member got their own floor. Steve's was the fifth floor.

When he was first led there, the only other person was a well-built black man, who had been running on a treadmill the first time Steve stepped foot into the gym. He seemed to hear Steve's entry because he turned off the machine and stepped off, turning to look at Steve. 

"I'll be damned," the man drawled. "Captain Rogers. Under any other circumstances, I'd be asking for your autograph."

"Who are you?" Steve asked warily. The man held his hands up placatingly.

"Hey man, I'm just messing with you. Sam Wilson."

"And why are you here, Sam Wilson?" Steve asked, raising an eyebrow. "Terrorism? Serial murder? Tax evasion?"

Sam Wilson snorted. "Terrorism. Or that's what they're calling it, anyway. Really, I was just doing unauthorized military operations that weren't even as bad as approved military missions."

"And what were those unauthorized military operations?" Steve asked, feeling himself relax.

"My partner Riley and I were pararescue back in Afghanistan. He was killed in a mission. My superiors took me off the field, told me to stop, but I couldn't. Not when innocent lives were at stake." Sam paused. "Also, does it count as terrorism if you're actually killing terrorists?"

"The government seems to think so," Steve said, shrugging. "They didn't want me killing Nazis, so I've come to the conclusion they have no moral compass whatsoever."

Sam laughed. "You got that right. You wanna spar? I'm losing my mind over here."

The second teammate Steve met was a stocky blonde guy, who almost got himself killed when he popped out of a vent when Steve was making a sandwich. Steve threw the knife he'd been previously using to spread butter, and the man yelped when it hit the ceiling right next to his head.

"Hey, cool it, man!" he yelped.

"What are you doing in the vents?" Steve asked incredulously, trying to focus on keeping his breathing steady. 

"I like it up here! Why did you throw a butter knife at me?"

"Because you scared me!"

"But you threw a knife at me!" 

Steve took a deep breath and looked up at the man. He had a black eye and a bandage across his nose. "Pal, you really shouldn't sneak up on people around here. I think I had the best possible reaction given our circumstances."

The guy hummed, and dropped down. He was a few inches shorter than Steve. "So, why're you here?"

"Because Fury sent me," Steve deadpanned.

"Yeah no shit, I meant what did you do to have Fury send you here?"

"Killed Nazis. You?"

"Vigilantism."

Steve nodded and went back to his sandwich. "I'm Steve Rogers. Or Captain America. Whichever you prefer."

"Clint," the man said cheerfully. "Or Hawkeye. Depends on the occasion." 

When Steve finished making the sandwich, Clint grabbed it and took a large bite, then jumped back into the vents. "Thanks for the sandwich, Cap!" he called down, before he fastened the vent back to the ceiling and disappeared. Steve could hear the faint sound of Clint crawling through the ceiling. 

Then there were the twins. A tall boy with blonde tips in his hair and a smaller girl with dusty brown hair and thick eyeliner were standing in the corner of the common room, whispering to each other when Steve came down for a sparring session with Sam. When they saw him, they both immediately straightened up and glared at him. The boy moved slightly in front of the girl.

"Hey, easy," Steve said, holding up his hands. "I was just going to the gym."

"Who are you?" the girl asked. She had a thick accent that sounded almost Russian, but not quite.

"I'm Steve. I live on the fifth floor."

The girl said something to the boy in a language Steve didn't recognise, and they both dropped their defensive poses. "So you are part of the Fury's project, too?" the boy asked. Steve nodded.

"I am Wanda," the girl said, nodding at him. "This is Pietro. We are twins."

"It's nice to meet you," Steve said, slowly lowering his hands. "Do you want to come down to the gym? Another resident and I are gonna spar."

They had another little conversation in that strange language, and then Wanda nodded. Sam didn't say anything when Steve arrived with two glaring teenagers behind him, only grinned and tossed Steve some wrap for his still-recovering knuckles.

Bruce Banner was sitting at the kitchen bench late one night, nursing a cup of tea. Steve knew about him, of course - he'd watched the footage of the Hulk ruining Chicago before he'd shipped out - and warily approached the man in order to get a glass of water.

"You seem nervous," Doctor Banner said casually, looking at Steve over the rim of his glasses.

"Well, I've heard certain stories about the company," Steve replied, making sure to keep his eyes on the doctor at all times. If he were to turn, Steve was pretty sure he'd be able to reach the door, and he doubted that Hyde could fit through there.

The doctor smiled wryly. "Believe me, if I were you, I'd be acting like that, too. But I assure you, Captain. I am no threat to anyone."

"You've learned how to control it?"

"To a certain degree, yes." Doctor Banner took a sip of his tea. "I've found that cinnamon tea and yoga are highly beneficial."

"Also weed, am I right, buddy?" a new voice said, and Steve spun around to see a man sitting in the darkness, focusing on something in his hands. "You're an average Rasta, ain't that right?"

"Tony, I don't smoke," Bruce sighed. "It destabilises my mental state."

"Sure thing, buddy," the man said, waving a hand. "Also, who's the blonde beefcake? Man, I would not object to a slice of that!" He looked up temporarily to wiggle his eyebrows at Steve, who felt his face go bright red.

Bruce turned to look at Steve, an apologetic look on his face. "I'm sorry about him. He'll flirt with anything that moves. Sometimes he even flirts with things that don't move. Or things that don't have physical substance."

"Hey, you can't say that!" Tony said defensively. "Jarvis gets upset when you talk about him like that!"

"Tony, your AI is not a physical thing," Bruce reminded him. 

"Yeah, but you can't just say that! You'll hurt his feelings!"

Bruce turned back to Steve. "Tony's the only person here who can actually leave if he wants. Considering he has Stark Industries to run and everything."

"Wait," Steve interrupted. "You're Tony Stark?"

"In the flesh, baby," Tony said, and winked at him. "You ever wanted to have sex with a billionaire?"

"Definitely not," Steve said dryly, and looked at Bruce. "It was nice meeting you, Doctor. Please try to convince the resident pervert to leave forever."

On the third day, when all the residents were attempting a get-to-know-you session in the common room, the reinforced steel door that nobody could open on the inside except for Tony slammed open. Steve was on his feet on an instant, Sam not far behind him. Pietro crossed the room from his seat to Wanda's impossibly fast, and Wanda's hands started to glow bright red. Clint produced a bow out of nowhere, an arrow already pulled back by the string. Only Bruce and Tony were unaffected, with Tony making a tiny robot out of scrap metal and Bruce knitting what looked like a baby's sock.

A woman with bright red hair strode in, flanked by five men twice her size in full tactical gear, with guns drawn and pointed at her. She seemed completely unaffected, but the men looked terrified. She was followed by another two men, holding a third man between them. The third man was obviously unconscious, his long hair falling into his face as the other men almost dragged him. The woman looked furious.

"This is ridiculous," she was saying, her voice raspy. Steve couldn't tell if it was because she had a sore throat, or if that was her natural timbre. "You can't do that to him. He wouldn't hurt you, not unless you gave him a reason to."

"Keep walking, Miss Romanova," one of the men squeaked out, and he visibly cowered when she turned her glare on him. 

"We're in the facility now, aren't we?" she snapped. "Put him down, and leave."

"We can't do that, ma'am," another one of them said timidly. In the blink of an eye, the woman had disarmed all five of the men around her and was holding a gun to one of their heads. 

"Give him to me, and leave. Now," she said coldly. 

The men dropped the unconscious man and almost ran out the door, not even bothering to retrieve their guns. The doors slammed behind them. The woman sunk to the floor beside the unconscious man and brushed some of the hair out of his face. She looked up, and her eyes met Steve's.

"You gonna help me, or just stand there like idiots?" she said coldly. Steve was the first to snap out of the shock of seeing this tiny woman disarm and threaten to kill seven highly trained men, and crossed the room to kneel down beside the unconscious man.

"What happened to him?' Steve asked, as the woman gestured for him to pick the man up. The man was dangerously light, and Steve felt his gut twist when he saw the clear signs of malnourishment. Under the pale skin and gaunt face, the man was incredibly beautiful.

"They starved him, then stuffed him so full of elephant drugs he could barely breathe," the woman replied.

"Who are you?"

"The Black Widow."

"And what's your name?"

The Widow looked at him, an eyebrow raised in amusement. "Do you normally ask this many questions?" Steve shrugged. She sighed. "Natasha Romanova."

Steve doubted that was her actual name, but he took what he got. "And what about him?"

Natasha's face tightened, and she turned away. Steve turned his head to catch Sam's eye, before he followed Natasha to the elevators.

"The Winter Soldier," Natasha finally said, when the elevator had begun its ascent to the eighth floor. "That's what they call him. He is my... He is my brother."

"Where are you two from?"

"I am from Russia. I do not know about him."

"I thought you said he was your brother?"

"Not by blood."

Natasha didn't elaborate. Steve didn't ask any more questions. The Winter Soldier stirred in his arms and let out a soft whine. His left hand clutched at Steve's bicep. It was made of metal.

"He has a metal arm," Steve said in shock.

"Well, he didn't want to run around with just a stump," Natasha said dryly. "It's much easier to have two arms."

The elevator doors opened, and Natasha strode out with purpose. If Steve didn't know any better, he'd say she'd lived here for years. 

"Put him down here," she said, walking into the first bedroom and gesturing to the bed. "I can take it from here."

"Are you sure you don't want me to-" Steve started.

"No," Natasha cut him off. "We will see you tomorrow, Captain Rogers."

Steve didn't bother to ask how she knew who he was. He had a feeling she wouldn't answer.

\----

The next morning, Steve got up at five to have breakfast, as he had done every day that he'd been there. 

The coffee machine, as usual, took two minutes and thirty-five seconds to heat up the water, grind up the beans, and make a cheerful ding to signal its completion. 

As usual, Steve took a mug from the first row, second to the right, from the cupboard, and deposited the mug under the coffee machine. The dark liquid drained into the mug, steam rising and filling Steve's nostrils with its scent. Steve grabbed the cup and raised it to his lips, turning around as he did so.

Everything about the morning was normal. Except when Steve turned around, there was a man sitting on one of the stools next to the counter, staring at him.

"You're the Winter Soldier," Steve noted. The man tilted his head to the side, studying Steve. His eyes were a startling icy blue. "Are you feeling better?"

The Soldier frowned. In his sweatpants and oversized shirt, his hair bundled behind his head, he looked soft, harmless. Steve knew better.

"You were with us yesterday," the Soldier finally said. His voice was soft, slightly raspy, with a faint Russian accent. Steve stayed silent, but nodded. The Soldier's teeth sunk into his bottom lip and Steve couldn't help but follow the motion with his eyes. "You helped us."

"What's your name?" Steve asked. The Soldier slipped off the stool and to his feet in one fluid, smooth motion.

"I thought you already knew that."

"Are you defined by your call sign?"

The Soldier walked towards him and stopped just a few inches away. He was a few inches shorter than Steve. The corner of the Soldier's mouth turned upwards, his eyes sparkling, and Steve's mouth went dry.

"That depends," the Soldier replied. "Are you, Captain?"

There was no hesitation. "No."

The Soldier nodded, looking satisfied, and stepped closer. The slightest movement from either of them, and they would be pressed together. "Then you understand."

"Are you going to give me your name?" Steve asked, sounding slightly breathless. The Soldier smiled then, and his flesh hand came up to brush against Steve's cheek.

"My old team called me Dmitri," he said, and his tongue swiped across his lip, leaving it shining with saliva. "You can call me that, if you want."

"And what do you want?" Steve murmured, and he unconsciously reached out to rest his hand on the Soldier's waist. 

The Soldier smirked, and raised himself onto his toes to match Steve's height. His hips brushed against Steve's, and Steve's grip tightened. "You can call me Yasha." His lips brushed against Steve's once. Then he was gone.

Steve blinked slightly, then noticed that his coffee was gone. Letting out a short laugh, Steve turned around to make himself another cup.

\----

"You do know that they're Widows, right?"

Steve rolled his eyes, not taking his eyes off the scene in front of him. "Widows are female, Sam."

"How else can you explain him?" Sam demanded, gesturing towards the sparring mats, where Yasha had his legs wrapped around Clint's neck and was slowly cutting off his oxygen. "He moves like a Widow, he fights like a Widow, the only human contact he's had apart from us is with another Widow."

As they watched, Clint desperately whacked at Yasha's leg and gasped a breath when the other man's grip finally relented.

"And why would it matter if they're Widows or not?" Steve asked absentmindedly. Yasha caught his eye from the other side of the room and raised an eyebrow with a smirk, and Steve hurriedly looked away. Sam was watching him with a thoroughly unimpressed look, something that was usually reserved for Clint. Instead of answering, Sam just sighed and shook his head.

"Just be careful, man," Sam finally said. "The Widows, they use their sexuality as a weapon. I don't wanna see you fall for this guy just to find out he's been using you."

Steve glanced back across the room to see Yasha doing stretches, his leg stretched out to the side as he laid his cheek on his knee, arms over his head and holding his foot. His hair fanned out around him like a halo, and Steve couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful he looked. Beautiful, and dangerous.

Steve always did like danger a bit too much.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick Fury pays a visit to the compound. Steve and Yasha's relationship develops.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so Steve is a complete mess and I am living for it

It was a Monday, three weeks after their arrival, when Nick Fury and the woman from Steve's cell visited the compound. Sam, Steve and Tony were in the common room; Sam and Steve were playing cards, and Tony seemed to be trying to make the toaster sentient. He had already set it on fire twice.

The doors to the compound opened, and Sam and Steve jumped to their feet. Seeing who it was didn't make Steve relax. Fury looked slightly amused, and tipped his head in Steve's direction.

"Captain Rogers," he said coolly. "You seem to have made yourself at home."

"Better than a cell," Steve replied evenly. Sam glanced between the two of them, but stayed silent.

Tony seemed to be the only person to be happy to see them.

"Uncle Nicky!" he squealed, and threw his arms around Fury's neck. "Have you brought me any new toys?"

Fury glowered at Tony when he pulled away, but the woman seemed to be trying not to laugh. "You're lucky you're even here at all, Stark. Don't push your luck."

Tony did an overexaggerated bow, and shuffled backwards until he bumped into Steve, who nudged him out of the way. Sam bit his lip, obviously trying not to laugh.

"Round up the others," Fury said. "Meet in the conference room."

"We have a conference room?" Sam asked.

"You bet, Sammykins," Tony chirped. "Off the side of the gym, next to the boxing ring - that red door with 'Fire Hose' printed on it."

Steve didn't bother to remark on the obvious fire safety hazards that came with not having a proper fire hose. "Tony, grab Bruce - you're the only one who can get him away from his work. Sam, you've got Clint and the twins. I'll grab Natasha and Yash- the Soldier."

The woman gave him a curious look, and Sam raised an eyebrow knowingly, but they thankfully didn't say anything. Steve made for the elevator, ears burning.

Natasha was lounging on the couch when Steve walked into the room, looking at ease with a mug of tea and a book (although Steve wouldn't be surprised if she was heavily armed and waiting for him).

"Director Fury is here," Steve said, not bothering to hide the bitterness in his voice. "We're all meant to meet in the conference room." Steve paused. "Where's Yasha?"

Natasha, who had stood up while Steve was talking, looked at him strangely. "What did you call him?"

"Yasha?" Steve repeated slowly. "He told me to call him that."

Natasha's eyebrows raised. "I'll be damned."

"What?" Steve asked confusedly. Natasha looked at him for a few more moments, before visibly shaking herself. 

"He was in the shower, last I saw. I need to talk to Fury - I'll meet you guys downstairs soon."

"Wait, Natasha-" Steve protested, but she was already gone. Steve pursed his lips together, and made his way down the hall. Everything was pretty much the exact same as when Steve had been there last, the only difference being the various weapons stored around the apartment. On a hunch, Steve stopped in front of the first bedroom - the same one that he'd placed Yasha in that first night - and knocked on the door.

The door swung open, and Steve had to remind himself how to breathe. Yasha had obviously just gotten out of the bathroom, since he was wearing only a pair of sweatpants, his feet and torso bare. His hair was wet and hanging loosely around his face, and his chest had the slightest amount of perspiration clinging to the fine hairs. Steve wanted to lick it off. Yasha raised an eyebrow and smirked, as if he knew exactly where Steve's mind was.

"Captain," he greeted lightly, leaning slightly against the door. "What can I do for you?"

With no small amount of effort Steve dragged his gaze away from Yasha's nipples, and instead focused on the curve of his neck. Which, in all honesty, wasn't much better. "Uh... Director Fury. Conference room."

Yasha hummed and stepped forward, his metal hand coming up to play with the collar of Steve's shirt. "Sounds compelling." His fingers trailed over Steve's collarbone, the cool metal making him shiver. 

"It's compulsory," Steve tried weakly, his voice cracking. Yasha hummed again, sounding unconvinced. 

"I'm sure you could make up some kind of excuse, Captain," he replied, and Steve let out a very embarrassing squeak. Yasha smelled of chai and his breath was soft on Steve's skin, and paired with his feather-light touches Steve was having an increasingly pressing matter in his pants. Yasha's eyes were sparkling as he looked up at Steve through his lashes, his lips quirked into a smile, and Steve couldn't seem to look away. He was a fly, trapped in a spider's web, helpless and bound by the ethereal beauty in front of him.

"Steve! Where you at, man?" Sam's shout echoed through the apartment, and Steve stepped back as if he's been burned. "Fury's getting impatient, man!"

"Be there in a second!" Steve yelled back, and ignored the hoarseness of his voice. Yasha disappeared back into his room and reappeared a few moments later, tugging on a black tank top that emphasised just how nice his arms were. He threw Steve a teasing smile, and trailed his fingers over Steve's chest as he passed.

"Come on, Captain," Yasha purred, his tone playful. "Don't want to be late."

Unable to properly form words, Steve just followed Yasha like a dog on a leash.

When they entered the conference room, Yasha immediately sat down in the spare seat next to Natasha and put his feet on her lap, closing his eyes contentedly when she started massaging them. Steve took a seat next to Sam, who raised an eyebrow, and Tony, who made a hand gesture that was probably quite sexual, but one that Steve didn't understand. Wanda and Pietro stood at the opposite end of the room to Fury and the woman, whispering heatedly under their breaths. Clint was leaning on the wall beside them, but he seemed to be more occupied with staring doe-eyed at Natasha than join in on the conversation. Bruce sat peacefully next to Tony, looping a strand of wool around his fingers to create some kind of rope. 

"Now that everyone has joined us," Fury started, raising an eyebrow at Steve, "we can begin. For those of you who don't know, I'm Director Nicholas Fury, of SHIELD. This is my second-in-command, Agent Maria Hill. We have gathered you eight together-"

"Nine!" Tony chimed in. Fury took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"You eight _and Stark_ to begin what is known as the Avengers Initiative. It depicts gathering highly dangerous criminals together as a task force to neutralise threats that regular law enforcement cannot handle. Because you would be doing crucial work for the United Nations and civilian lives, you would live here between missions. If you choose to drop out of the program, you will be returned to the penitentiaries you came from."

"What if one of us dies?" Pietro spoke up, his voice wobbly. Fury looked at him with something akin to sympathy.

"Occupational hazard."

Pietro shrank into Wanda's side, and Fury turned away. "You will be equipped with state-of-the-art weaponry on missions, and will occasionally work with SWAT and STRIKE teams if need be. You will have access to this entire compound when in between missions, and that includes the infirmary that Stark has set up on the perimeters."

"What if we try to escape?" Natasha asked, a glint in her eye that could only mean challenge. 

"Then SHIELD will activate the pathogens that we injected into your blood, and you will die relatively quickly," he replied smoothly.

"You tagged us?" Clint said in outrage.

"Call it a last resort. We couldn't have the risk of several highly dangerous criminals running around without some way of controlling them."

Steve sighed, and leaned forward slightly. "We've been here for the good part of a month, and this is the first visit we've gotten from you, and I doubt it was to tell us things that we already knew." The words were bitter in his mouth. "Why are you here?"

Hill stepped forward and threw a manila file onto the table. "A couple of months ago we got intel of a security guard at a strip club pimping out dancers against their will in Boston, and we sent in an agent. She came back to us a week ago with evidence of a whole sex trafficking ring, linked to HYDRA."

Steve stiffened, his fists clenching, and Sam glanced over at him worriedly. Yasha took his feet off Natasha's lap and grabbed her hand tightly. Both their faces had turned deathly pale.

"Soldier, Widow, you're to go undercover as dancers. Talk to your colleagues, try to get the attention of the pimps. Captain Rogers, Falcon and Hawkeye will join them as security - you'll be the only non-Hydra guards, so getting recruited is top priority. Banner, you are to stay at the compound with the twins to continue their training," Hill listed off. "Your goal is to find the head of the organisation and shut it down. They've already started recruiting children - this needs to be done with the utmost secrecy, otherwise it's likely that they're going to start killing off the recruits." Hill spoke with disgust clear in each word, her eyes blazing. Steve felt himself begrudgingly start to like her. "You don't need to pack anything - your wardrobes, weapons and identities have already been taken care of. A car will come and pick you up at 0700 sharp tomorrow morning."

"What am I gonna do?" Tony asked, sounding way too chipper for the conversation.

"Just do what Banner does," Fury said wearily. "Any other questions?" At the silence that greeted the question, Fury nodded. "Dismissed."

As he left, Steve caught a glimpse of Natasha and Yasha whispering together, their faces grim.

\-------

It was one in the morning, and Steve couldn't sleep. After the briefing, Fury and Hill had stayed for a short while to talk to Bruce about the twins' training, but Steve, Sam and Clint were long gone by then. They'd sat on the couch on Clint's floor, drinking coffee that tasted like battery acid and discussing the case. Then Tony had ordered pizza (how he got it delivered to a place that technically doesn't exist, Steve has no idea) and they'd all eaten dinner together in the common room. All of them except the Widows. 

So there Steve was, at one in the morning before a big assignment, thinking about the stricken look on Yasha's face when Hydra was mentioned. 

Seemed like Steve wasn't the only one in the compound who'd been fucked over by Hydra. 

Abandoning sleep altogether, Steve kicked the covers off and swung his legs over the side of the bed, pulling on a shirt and a pair of sweatpants mindlessly. He needed to get out of his mind, just for a little while. 

Steve may have been planning to go to the gym as he stepped into the elevator, but instead of going down to the basement, Steve pressed the button for the eighth floor. Silently praying that Natasha was asleep, Steve slipped out into the apartment and to the first bedroom.

Steve never would have thought he'd think of the elusive and dangerous Winter Soldier as soft, but... that was exactly how Yasha looked. He wore an oversized shirt that hung to mid-thigh, and a pair of soft-looking yoga pants. His feet were bare, and his hair was up in a loose braid that swept over his shoulder. He looked surprised to see Steve, and it would have been endearing if not for the redness of his eyes.

"Captain," Yasha greeted, his voice slightly hoarse. "What can I do for you?"

It lacked his usual bravado and confidence, with no smile to accompany the words. For a fleeting second, Steve wondered if he was being played. If Yasha was putting up a front to draw him in, to gain his trust, but he quickly pushed it away.

"Couldn't sleep," Steve said softly, and Yasha tilted his head in understanding, holding the door open in invitation. Steve moved past him with a mumbled gratitude.

"So you decided to come and visit me?" Yasha asked. His words were teasing, but his tone was curious. Steve turned to look at him, taking in the red eyes, the somewhat dishevelled appearance, the slight trembling of his bottom lip.

"You've had experience with HYDRA," Steve said. Not asking, just stating. "So have I."

Yasha gave him a forced smile. "You have no idea."

"Then tell me," Steve challenged. "They did something to you. I can tell. Did they take something?"

Yasha's bottom lip trembled. "They took _everything_."

Before Steve could answer, Yasha sighed harshly, running his hands through his hair. "I do not want to talk about HYDRA. I need... I need to..."

Yasha let out another frustrated noise and closed the distance between them to curl his hands into Steve's hair and pull him down, their lips meeting none-too-gently. Almost as a reflex, Steve wrapped Yasha up in his arms and hauled him as close as possible, cradling his shaking body close to his chest. Yasha was trembling like a leaf in a thunderstorm, his lips searing hot and his body cool to the touch. Yasha pulled away with a choked-off sob and looked up at Steve pleadingly, those beautiful grey eyes watery and his cheeks red and tear-stained.

"Make me forget," he pleaded, gripping Steve's arm tightly. "Make me know nothing but your hands on my skin."

Steve couldn't help the anguished whine that ripped from his throat, unable to witness such a beautiful creature in such pain. He lifted Yasha up as he kissed him, gripping the smaller man by his ass and carrying him across the room. He laid Yasha on the bed as gently as he could, only pulling away long enough to remove both of their shirts. The seam of Yasha's left shoulder, where metal met flesh, was horrifically scarred and mangled, and Steve couldn't help but press a kiss to the mutilated skin. Yasha gasped, and pulled Steve back up for another kiss, hands scrabbling at both their pants. Steve closed his eyes and lost himself in Yasha's body.

\---------

The next morning, as promised, a nondescript moving truck pulled up to the compound, a stoic-faced man behind the wheel. A woman with blonde hair sat in the back, waiting for them. She smiled as they approached, but her face was pinched and there were dark circles under her eyes.

"I'm sorry for the short notice," she said, standing up and reaching a hand out for Steve to shake, then Sam and Clint. Natasha glared at her, while Yasha didn't seem to notice her at all, lost in his own head. "I'm Agent 13, SHIELD special service. This is my operation, and you are now under my supervision. I'm here to give you important details about the case that Maria and Nick were unable to give you, and introduce you to your new identities."

"Are we just supposed to call you Agent 13 for the entire operation?" Clint asked. Coming from anyone else, it would sound rude - from Clint, it sounded teasing and light.

Agent 13 laughed. "If you don't want to call me that, then it's Sharon Carter," she teased. Clint grinned back at her. "We'll be dropping you off at our makeshift headquarters to go through the necessary changes, then you'll be briefed on your identities. Then, I'll lead a meeting and tell you everything you need to know."

"How long until the drop site?" Natasha asked curtly. She'd sat down on one of the benches, Yasha's head in her lap. Yasha was still staring off into space, barely noticing at Natasha ran her hands through his hair.

"Probably two hours, give or take," Sharon replied. "I'd recommend you all get some rest. You've got a hard mission ahead of you. If you need me, I'll be in the front." She turned to leave.

"Agent Carter," Steve blurted out, and Sharon turned back around to look at him. "Fury and Agent Hill told us they sent in an agent to investigate. That was you, wasn't it?"

Sharon smiled wryly. "I'm the most qualified to lead this operation, not because of my status in SHIELD, but as my work as a field agent. You'd be correct, Captain."

"How bad is it?"

Sharon grimaced. "Worse than you could ever imagine."

\------

When they got to the SHIELD headquarters, located in Nahant, Massachusetts, Natasha and Yasha were immediately whisked away down a separate corridor by several sharply-dressed agents. Yasha caught Steve's eye over one of the agent's heads, and neither of them looked away until Yasha was dragged out of sight. 

Steve, Sam and Clint were taken to a room that greatly resembled a barbershop. The agents that escorted them there quickly left, only to be replaced by two men and a woman. The first man bounded into the room with as much excitement as a golden retriever, his long blonde hair bouncing around his face. He was easily taller than Steve (an impressive feat) and looked like he could crush boulders between his bare hands. The second man was shorter and willowy, with sleek black hair that had been braided in an almost Viking style. The woman reminded Steve of Natasha in the way she moved. She had pale skin, sharp cheekbones and dark hair that hung around her face, and was dressed in black.

"Welcome, friends!" the first man boomed. "I am Thor, and these are my siblings, Loki and Hela! We shall be preparing you for your assignment today!"

Steve blinked, slightly taken aback by the man's enthusiasm. From the looks on Sam and Clint's faces, they were equally as perplexed.

The three of them were ushered into separate rooms; Sam with Thor, Clint with Hela, and Steve with Loki. Despite seeming so delicate, the other man's grip on Steve's shoulder was rather strong. Steve couldn't help but notice as the dark silk of Loki's dress shirt rippled when he walked.

"Since you are supposed to be an evil yet stupid man who does not care about the welfare of others, I shall make you look like one," Loki said briskly, pushing Steve down into a reclining chair, the headrest a basin full of warm water. His thin fingers started rubbing shampoo through Steve's wet hair, surprisingly gentle compared to the tone of his voice. "Your instructions going forward are to use gel to spike your hair before your shifts. Remove the gel as soon as you return to your residence with running water - either in the shower or a sink."

Loki wrapped a towel around Steve's head, then led him to a swivel chair in front of a mirror. A wheelie table sat next to the chair, covered in hair products that Steve couldn't name. Loki clipped what looked like a large bib around Steve's neck, then took what looked like shears to the side of Steve's head. Wet tufts of dark blonde hair fell onto the floor around them. 

"I don't know if I can do this," Steve admitted, surprising himself. Loki rolled his eyes, not taking his gaze from Steve's hair. "I've never done undercover work before. And I'm not sure if I can do some of the things I might have to do."

"It doesn't matter what you do when you're undercover, as long as you get the job done," Loki said, pausing for a moment to cart his long fingers through Steve's hair. It felt comforting. "If you fail, you're also failing those poor men and women and children who've been captured. You're failing their families. So don't try and back out, because those people need you." Loki raised his gaze to meet Steve's in the mirror. "And I'm guessing Winter needs you, too."

"Winter?" Steve questioned. "You mean the Winter Soldier? Yasha?"

"Is that what he wants you to call him?" Loki asked, amusement clear in his voice. "That's quite sweet. Apart from Natalia, I believe you're the first person he's asked to call him that."

"You know him?"

"Not very well," Loki admitted. "I was on the run a few years ago. I did some things I am not so proud of. But Winter and Natalia found me. Winter and I, we'd both been used as weapons against our wills. We found solace in each other, if only briefly."

"What do you mean, 'used as a weapon'?" Steve asked, gut rolling.

"I launched a terrorist attack on New York. A man I thought to love got inside my head, wove intricate webs of lies and deceit. I could not break away until the damage had already been done."

"And Yasha?" 

"That is not my story to tell."

Loki removed his hands from Steve's hair, and grabbed two objects from a shelf in the corner of the room. The first one was a black tube, the other a box no bigger than his hand.

"This is hair gel," Loki said, passing the tube over. "Use it as I instructed." He stroked a finger across the top of the box absentmindedly. "I wish you well on your mission, Captain Rogers. Consider this a gesture of goodwill, and a token of luck." He held out the box, and Steve took it carefully. The surface was smooth, and when Steve opened it with slightly trembling hands, a fluorescent blue-white crystal shone inside, attached to a leather cord."

"What is it?" Steve asked softly, running a finger over the crystal in awe.

"I'm not sure," Loki admitted. "My mother, God rest her soul, was a spiritual being. She believed in magic and faeries in a way that nobody else I've ever met did. She always used to tell me that a rock that glowed like this is good luck."

"I... I don't know what to say," Steve admitted, looking up at Loki. The other man was strikingly beautiful, with high cheekbones and pale skin, and he looked almost ethereal.

"Don't say a thing," Loki replied. "Just survive, and succeed."

Steve stepped closer and kissed him.

Loki's lips were oddly cold under his, but the soft puff of air he let out warmed Steve to the core. He nudged Loki's lips apart gently, slipping his tongue inside when Loki opened up so beautifully. Long fingers on delicate hands crept up Steve's chest, curled around the back of his neck. Loki's body was soft and supple when Steve untucked his shirt and slid his hands underneath, and Steve swallowed the soft gasp that escaped when he dragged his nails down Loki's back. Loki's fingers curled into Steve's shirt and started pulling him forward, and Steve followed like a dog on a leash, hoisting Loki up onto a dresser by the thighs and pressing forward, pinning the smaller man between his body and the mirror.

It was intoxicating, the soft slide of lips and tongue and the hands that moved over his body as if they were playing an instrument. Steve rubbed circles into Loki's hip with one hand, the other fisted in his hair and messing up those beautiful braids. Loki moaned lowly, his thighs wrapping around Steve's waist and their erections pressing together. As Steve rocked forward slowly, fucking Loki's mouth with his tongue, he couldn't help but wish the hair in his fist was brown, not black. If the body pressed against his was just a little shorter, just a little thicker. If when he pulled away, he'd see grey eyes, not green. If the hand currently snaked under his underwear and wrapped around his dick was made of metal.

Steve pressed closer, groaning when Yasha - no, Loki - pulled his cock out of his pants, the sudden gust of cool air against the sensitive head making him shiver. Refusing to be bested, Steve forced Loki's mouth wider and unzipped Loki's slacks, pulling his underwear down just enough for Loki's cock to spring free. It was nowhere near as big as Steve's, and it wasn't hard for Steve to get his hand around both of them, jerking them slowly and rhythmically. It was a bit too dry, but such an intimate act in a time such as this was pure ecstasy. 

Loki broke free from the kiss and threw his head back against the mirror, exposing the pale skin of his neck as he moaned freely. Steve couldn't help but lean in and start biting up and down the column of Loki's throat, savouring the hot skin under his lips. He couldn't help but remember what Yasha had looked like the night before - with purple bruises blooming on his neck and chest and thighs, eyes glazed and shining, hair ruffled. Those plush lips curled into a smile as he leaned in to kiss Steve. The roll of his hips as he bore down on Steve's cock, his body swallowing Steve up perfectly in a cocktail of heat and passion.

In his arms, Loki latched onto Steve's neck, and he came with Yasha's name on his lips.

\-----

Steve couldn't focus. He should have been listening to what Sharon was saying, as it was crucial to the case. He should have been paying attention when Sharon left the room, with instructions on where and when to meet the next day, and to wait in the room until orderlies took them to their designated rooms. He shouldn't have been lost in his own head.

Sam, from his seat beside Steve, was throwing him curious glances, as he'd been doing since Steve and Loki had come out of that room, hair ruffled, lips red and puffy, and both sporting several purple blotches on their necks. Clint kept looking over at Steve and wiggling his eyebrows, occasionally mumbling under his breath and giggling.

Natasha glared at him from across the room, her hair much longer and darker than it had been when he'd last seen her that morning. Steve guessed it was extensions, because while he didn't know much about hair, he doubted someone could grow six inches of hair within a couple of hours. Yasha sat next to her, his hair trimmed and teased into waves that fell just past his chin and curled around his neck. His metal arm seemed to be covered by some kind of sleeve, since it was indistinguishable from his flesh arm, and his fingers tapped out an incessant rhythm against the table in front of him. He refused to look at Steve. 

As soon as the orderlies came to inform them that their rooms were ready, Yasha was out of his seat in an instant, Natasha hot on his heels. They were already halfway to the door when Steve stood up, about to call out, but Natasha looked back at him and pinned him with such an icy glare that Steve had to take a step back. When he'd recovered, they'd already gone.

"Damn," Clint whistled. "What'd you do to get her so pissed?"

"I don't know," Steve said helplessly, and Sam groaned loudly.

"You are actually the densest person I have ever met," he proclaimed loudly, and walked over to the remaining orderly. Steve and Clint shared a bemused look, but followed.

The orderly led them to a room that reminded Steve of basic - there were three single beds parallel to one another, each with a small desk beside it. She left quickly, and soon it was just the three of them.

"Well, I'm beat," Sam finally said, stretching his arms over his head. "Big day tomorrow, all that. I'm going to bed."

"It's so early, though!" Clint whined.

"We got up early this morning, and we'll have to get up early tomorrow, too. I'm getting as much sleep as I can," Sam replied, flopping onto the bed furthest away from the door. Clint harrumphed, and turned to Steve.

"Well, I'm starving. How about we go and find the canteen in this place?"

"You go ahead," Steve said absently. "There's something I gotta do first."

"If you're going back to the stylist, I would suggest taking condoms," Sam called, not opening his eyes. "If you're going to see the Russians, I would suggest body armour."

Steve ignored him, and made his way out of their room and down the corridor. Everything in the facility was covered in the same sterile white, like a hospital. It was slightly unnerving, and almost impossible to tell the difference between all the corridors.

Steve had no idea where he was going. He guessed that Yasha and Natasha's room was close to his, but there were so damn many doors that Steve just had to keep knocking and hope for the best. He interrupted no more than three sexcapades, one agent threw a knife at him, and yet another tried to invite him in for a threesome with her and her bunkmate. When he finally did get the right door, it was slammed in his face immediately.

"Yasha?" Steve called out hesitantly, his knuckles resting on the wood. "I know you're there. I just want to talk."

"I have nothing to say to you, Captain." Yasha's voice was slightly muffled.

"Look, is this about Loki? Because-"

The door swung open, cutting Steve off mid-sentence. Yasha stood there looking like an avenging angel, his hair loose around his face and his skin soft and faintly blushed. He was wearing an oversized shirt and track pants, his feet bare. And he looked _furious_.

"Because _what_ , Captain?" Yasha hissed. The knuckles of his right hand were white, starkly contrasted from the dark wood of the door. "Because it didn't mean anything? Because it was an accident? Because it _just happened_?"

"Why do you care so much, huh?" Steve asked, feeling his temper start to rise. "We spent one night together. It wasn't a declaration of marriage."

"You really believe I would show just anyone that side of me?" Yasha said incredulously. "You really think that I wouldn't have been able to hide my feelings from you if I wished?"

"Then why didn't you?" Steve challenged, stepping forward. Yasha refused to move back, and they ended up mere inches from one another. "Why didn't you put on a mask and take what you wanted, anyway?"

"Because I trust you!" Yasha shouted, stabbing a finger into the middle of Steve's chest. "Because I know you, and I know that you are a good man!"

"You've barely known me for three weeks!"

"You think I can't gather enough information in that time?" Yasha sneered. "I'm a spy. It's my job to find information, Captain."

Steve grabbed Yasha by the shoulders and turned him around, slamming him into the door, which closed with a bang. Yasha's eyes widened, but then he grinned, all teeth, and it served to make Steve angrier.

"Do not call me that," Steve hissed. "That is not my name. That is not who I am."

Yasha's eyes flashed. "Then show me who you are, Steve Rogers."

Steve pressed Yasha further into the door and kissed him hard enough to draw blood. Yasha's arms flew up around Steve's shoulders, burying in his hair and yanking, and in retaliation Steve bit down on Yasha's lip, causing blood to spill between them and bathe their mouths in red. Steve's body was a live wire, too much energy sizzling just underneath the surface, and Yasha was causing him to self-combust. He ripped Yasha's sweatpants off and gripped the smaller man's thighs, lifting him up and causing his ass to press right against Steve's dick. Yasha's legs wrapped around his waist, and Steve felt his shirt tear down the back as Yasha's nails dug into his skin.

"Bedside table," Yasha said breathlessly, barely moving away, and Steve broke the kiss to stagger across the room, throwing Yasha onto his stomach on the bed and crawling right on after him. Yasha reached out to the chest of drawers, opening the first one and scrabbling around inside, and Steve pressed himself up against Yasha's back, grinding his aching dick into Yasha's firm backside. Yasha forced a small bottle into Steve's hand, and Steve wasted no time on slicking up two of his fingers and shoving them inside Yasha's body. Yasha howled, his back arching into Steve's chest and hips rotating to take Steve's fingers further in. Steve draped himself over Yasha's back, sucking marks into the soft skin of his neck and pumping his fingers at an unforgiving pace. Yasha was writhing underneath him, hair sticking to his neck from sweat and metal arm whirring and buzzing underneath its sleeve.

"Condoms?" Steve asked, surprising himself with how raspy his voice was.

"You are enhanced," Yasha panted, somehow still sounding annoyed. "You cannot contract or pass on sexual diseases, and I am clean. Get inside me, or I will tie you down and do it myself."

Steve groaned loudly, pressing his face into the soft skin of Yasha's neck, and pulled his fingers out, pulling his dick out of his pants and slicking up as quickly as possible. It was probably a bad idea, going without a condom, but Steve couldn't care less, not with Yasha spread out like a god underneath him wearing nothing but a shirt that Steve realised was his, and his warm, soft skin pressed against Steve's still-clothed body. 

It had only been a day since he'd last been inside Yasha, but it was so overwhelming that Steve had to stop halfway in, panting against the back of Yasha's neck and desperately trying not to come immediately. Yasha wasn't making it easy; he was writhing and crying out and pushing back against Steve in a way that was so distracting that Steve ended up pressing the hand that wasn't holding Yasha's hip between Yasha's shoulder blades, and Yasha went limp. Steve pressed down harder, moving to his knees, and slid smoothly all the way in, causing a groan to escape both of them. As Steve started moving at a fast, brutal pace, hips snapping and balls slapping against Yasha's ass, he realised that he was right where Yasha wanted him to be. Steve closed his eyes and leaned down to bite Yasha's shoulder, a vicious satisfaction rushing over him in knowing that Yasha would have his marks all over his body, that anyone who sees them will know that Yasha belonged to him.

" _Steve,_ " Yasha cried out, his voice breathy and raspy. Steve leaned down and covered Yasha's body with his own, turning the other man's head to the side to kiss him, much more gently than the pace of his thrusts. Yasha's cheeks were wet, and he panted into Steve's mouth like he couldn't catch his breath, and he was looking into Steve's eyes when he finally came, completely untouched.

Just the sight had Steve's hips stuttering, and he was spilling into Yasha, the force of his orgasm making stars dance behind his eyes and lightning run through his veins. Steve collapsed on the bed beside Yasha, his limbs trembling, still working through the aftershocks, and Yasha turned to look at him, his perfect lips open and panting, chest heaving. He was still wearing that shirt.

"Is that my shirt?" Steve croaked out. 

"You left it in my room last night," Yasha replied. "It smells like you."

Steve moved closer and kissed him.

"You need to go," Yasha whispered, breaking the kiss after a minute. His breath ghosted across Steve's skin.

"Or I could stay," Steve challenged. Yasha smiled, but it was a sad one.

"You know what's going to happen tomorrow. You must go."

Steve leaned down for another kiss, and Yasha's body moulded to him so sweetly it was hard to remember he was one of the most ruthless assassins in the country. But then Yasha pushed him back, shaking his head.

"I cannot."

"Why not?" 

"I am not who you think I am."

Steve reached up to cup Yasha's face, his thumb rubbing over the soft skin of his cheek. "I don't care."

Yasha's face crumpled unhappily. "Do not make this harder than it needs to be, Steve." He slipped from the bed. Steve's shirt was far too big for him, and covered the tops of his thighs. "Just leave."

Steve sat up, reaching out, but Yasha pulled away with a shake of his head. Steve lowered his hand, letting it fall into his lap, and threw his legs over the side of the bed. "I'm not going to quit you. You realise that, right?"

Yasha smiled again, but his eyes were impossibly sad. "Goodnight, Steve."

Steve hesitated, before padding over to Yasha and kissing his cheek. When he pulled away, Yasha's eyes were closed and his bottom lip was trembling. 

The door closed behind Steve with a click.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY so I'm still writing the fourth chapter of this, and I don't know when it'll be up. I was originally going to write the whole story and then publish it, but I can't be stuffed. If you have any ideas that you wanna see in the story, let me know.
> 
> I honestly really love this verse, and I'm really excited to keep writing it. Fair warning, it will get really dark, but there will be a happy ending. Mainly because I literally can't write something that ends badly.


End file.
